


The Great Game Continues

by Snootiegirl



Series: Seducing the King (Series) [2]
Category: Marvel (Movies), X-Men (Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Determined to make DOFP better, Five years post-cuba, M/M, Post X-Men: First Class, chess as foreplay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-17
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-02-21 11:30:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2466623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snootiegirl/pseuds/Snootiegirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five years after their last encounter, Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr are brought back together under circumstances that will test both men separately as well as their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The King, Part III

**Author's Note:**

> This story does not seem to let me go; however, I felt like this was more than a new chapter in Seducing the King. This is a different Volume. So I'm going to list my first series. Yay!
> 
> Isn't it exciting that they're back and they're ready to go? Come along on an exciting, thrilling, desperate ride as Erik exposes government conspiracies, Charles is arrested, and Mystique saves the day.
> 
> Have I said too much?
> 
> Feedback generously licked until it shines like the top of the Chrysler building.

Erik landed softly on the grass and took in the sloping lines of the grounds. He had almost forgotten what this place had looked like, his residence here such a short time compared to the intervening years that led to this moment. He was still intimidated by the imposing structure. Erik scowled at that reflexive reaction.

I am Erik Lehnsherr, leader of thousands of beings. I have traveled the world over and shaped the events of history in the past five years. Why should one house in upstate New York inspired such a reaction in me.

Erik knew that it wasn't the house that put the instinctive fear in him. It was what it represented. It was the memories associated with the place. It was the emotional baggage that he was still unable to check.

Charles.

Erik felt himself drawn bodily toward his counterparts' inside the mansion. Reaching up to once more check on the helmet which shielded him from the telepath, Erik wondered-not for the first time--what it was about Charles that drew Erik in. What was it that this man had that Erik could not deny himself?

Even without telepathy, Erik felt Charles. Erik's body cried out for the other man as he walked step-by-step closer to their first meeting in years. Stuttering to a stop every fifth step, Erik shook his head to clear it of the emotions that were steadily taking control of him. He didn't need to lose control or show any weakness tonight.

He wasn't worried about Charles taking advantage of any of Erik's weaknesses--it was just the opposite. Erik was fairly certain that he wouldn't want to leave this place if he allowed himself to feel everything that was currently percolating up through the colander of his mind. Every time he had tried to stop up those little entry ways through which his feelings reached his conscious mind, they had found new places to flow. It was a never-ending battle.

And one that Erik was sure to lose in the end.

His boots made little sound on the damp grass as he continued his military-like stride toward his destination. Once within the shadow of the mansion's facade, he reached up and removed his helmet, calling out with his mind.

"Charles?"

The reply was nearly instantaneous.

"Shall I come down, or do you want to come up?"

"Probably best not to discuss this within shouting distance of sleeping children."

"The library then."

Erik swiftly unlocked the back door and slipped into the soft light of the kitchen, subsequently directing his feet toward the library. During his walk, he used his power over metal to reacquaint himself with the guts of the mansion. 

There. He could feel new rooms below the main building, added on to the bomb shelters from the past. But these newer spaces were much stronger, more fortified than the previous ones. Erik was impressed with Charles' initiative, for all of his public pandering to peaceful co-existence. Dr. McCoy had obviously been hard at work below as well as above the surface of this school.

Erik also sensed the approach of the elevator--also newly installed since his last visit--and Charles' wheelchair within it. Politely, he stopped in the hallway to await the proprietor of the premises. The whoosh of the doors brought even more light into the hallway, illuminating Charles' form in his seated position.

Erik felt a blow to his chest. He had missed seeing this man. More than he had wanted to know. And all of those years of longing were coalescing in a very large lump in his throat.

As Charles rolled toward the taller man, a smile hovered about the corners of his mouth. He glided to a stop at Erik's feet and gazed up at him, leaning onto his right arm.

"Take your time, Erik. I'm sure whatever you came to say will wait until you are able to swallow again," Charles said with a glint in his eyes.

Erik started to scowl and deny the truth of the situation, but Charles couldn't help chuckling at him. Then he leaned forward and grasped the standing man's clothing. His upper body strength was something to be reckoned with, and Erik could do nothing short of shedding his clothing to avoid being pulled down into Charles' face.

Charles searched Erik's face minutely for a breathless thirty seconds. Then he cupped the taller man's neck and initiated the first kiss they had shared in half a decade. Erik was stiff for the first moment but melted into the contact so much that he knees hit the floor at Charles' feet. Then Erik's hands came up to smooth over Charles' face--and facial hair--in a petting motion.

Their kiss became increasingly heated as their roaming hands explored the changes that five years had wrought on each others' bodies. Erik almost pulled Charles from his chair in his excitement and desperation. Charles steadied himself with one hand on the chair, separating their mouths and leaning their foreheads together.

"Charles," Erik said, breathless from more than just their kissing.

"Erik, love," Charles responded. "How I have missed you."

"No less than I you," Erik answered. His hands continued to move across Charles' limbs in an attempt to convince himself that the man before him was real.

After another moment, Charles had to chuckle again. "It's all right," he assured Erik. "I am real. I am here."

Characteristically, Erik scowled at being laughed at. But then he did find a smile for his lips. Closing his eyes tightly, he breathed in the scent of Charles in a quiet moment that he tucked away for all of the lonely nights of his life to come.

"Dare I hope that you can stay longer than a quarter hour?" Charles asked.

Erik hesitated a moment before answering.

"Do you want me to stay?" Erik asked back as his eyes popped open again.

Charles looked deeply into those cold, blue eyes and breathed, "Oh, yes."

Erik clasped both of Charles' hands in his and pronounced, "We can talk later." To which Charles nodded, kissed Erik once more quickly, and backed his chair up to turn around and re-enter the elevator. Erik walked as close to Charles as he could during this short trip.

They looked not outward from the door of the elevator but into each other's eyes, wondering how they would ever make the trip up one floor before needing to touch each other again.

\-------------

As soon as the door to Charles' room was closed and locked behind them, Erik did what he had been fantasizing about for a very long time. He hooked his arm under Charles' bend knees and whisked the man out of his wheelchair, walked toward the bed in the center of the room, all the while kissing, biting, and licking Charles' lips, jawline, and neck. After settling his precious cargo gently into the center of the bed, Erik settled down next to Charles so that their bodies touched from shoulder to toes.

"I have wanted to know for so long . . ." Erik began.

"No," Charles replied to the unspoken, but forcefully thought, question. "No, I am not impotent. Yes, I can achieve an erection and ejaculation. Anything else you want to know?"

Erik was relieved to see the amusement on Charles' face. He didn't know how Charles would react to those inquiries. They were legitimate after all, given their past relationship and present intentions.

"Do we need a safe word?" Erik asked, sultry and teasing.

Charles laughed out loud.

"Erik. You never cease to amaze me," Charles said with great affection.

Erik grinned back at Charles in a way he hadn't in too many years. He just couldn't with anyone but Charles. This man who could read his mind made him feel more comfortable than the most ignorant, bumbling idiot he had ever met. Idiots were easy to figure out. Idiots were easy to predict and outsmart. Charles was none of those things. He could read Erik almost before Erik himself knew a thought was forming. And it still didn't bother him.

Perhaps it should, he whispered to himself.

Charles reached up to run his hands around Erik's face, tracing his strong features. His softened look mirrored his relaxed posture. To try to induce more relaxation out of Erik, Charles rubbed a finger at the creases in his brow.

"You know I would never intentionally hurt you. I love you too much," Charles responded to Erik's unspoken doubt. "Despite everything."

Instead of qualifying the declaration of love, his reference to their tumultuous history only served to enhance the force of the emotions. Both men had unintentionally hurt each other numerous times--physically and emotionally. But neither possessed the wherewithal to inflict intentional suffering.

"Yes," Erik agreed. "I do trust you, Charles." He leant down and claimed another kiss to seal the promise they shared.

Charles knew that the only person in the world who would ever induce him to turn on his principles was the man currently cradling Charles on his own bed. He had entertained the notion, through the years, of contacting Erik and asking him to run away with him. They could disappear from their own lives and build a new one together. Forget all the principles, the causes, the brotherhoods, everything. Not even Raven could have convinced Charles to turn his back on the world.

Nothing but Charles could have ever convinced Erik to turn his back on other mutants.

"Why have we not done this before?" Charles inquired.

"Do you have amnesia as well?" Erik teased.

"I meant since Cuba," he clarified.

Erik's expression sagged. Immediately, Charles regretted the impulse to ask.

"I--" Erik stopped and collected his thoughts. "I wasn't sure you--" He stopped again.

"Weren't sure I what?" Charles prompted.

Erik sighed. "Forgave me? Cared? Loved me anymore?" he offered. Erik looked like a child who had lost his favorite toy.

"Oh, Erik," Charles said. "My heart is big enough to love you for all that you are and all that you have chosen. When last we met, I was mired in my own self-hatred and anger. It was only directed at you that evening. Not since, actually."

Erik was shocked. He had assumed the worst after their last parting. Which meant that the progression of events this evening were vastly more positive than he had anticipated. Not willing to burst such a beautiful fantasy bubble, he had gone along with anything Charles had suggested as a matter of course.

Knowing now that he didn't have to hold back from being himself, especially not in bed, Erik gave a low, guttural growl and rolled on top of Charles, his long legs snugging up on the outside of Charles' shorter ones.

"What can I do to you, Charles," he asked between long, wet kisses to Charles' alabaster skin. He would have to wear turtlenecks for a week after this.

His voice already undone, Charles grasped for a response, "Any-anything. I haven't had anyone since you left."

That arrested Erik's movements again. He couldn't believe that! Five years?

"Why not?" Erik demanded, more forcefully than was necessary.

Charles couldn't help giggling at his lover's incredulity. "Perhaps I was saving myself?"

This response induced a genuine smile from Erik as well.

"Saving yourself, huh?" he rejoined. Then he resumed his exploration and reacquaintance with Charles' skin and smell. He was intoxicating to Erik.

Charles sighed only fractionally. 

"Well, I've been busy, and there hasn't been any time to cultivate any new personal relationships. Plus, being in the wheelchair makes casual encounters much more cumbersome," he explained.

Between kisses, Erik said, "I would think --kiss-- that having a convenient seat --kiss-- would make casual encounters --kiss-- all that easier. Just --kiss-- climb on board --kiss-- so to speak." 

Erik smiled slyly up at Charles, resulting in Charles snorting in response.

"I haven't laughed this much in a long time," Charles informed Erik, to which Erik stopped his kissing and sat up with his hands on his hips in a gesture of exasperation.

"Are you going to continue to go on and on about regrets and other dreary things, or are we going to have some fun and exhaust each other?" he asked only a little bit petulantly.

Charles bit his lower lip and whispered, "Exhaustion please."

"Good," Erik grunted. "Now, do shut up, Charles."

And to make good on all his promises and threats, Erik leaned in and kissed Charles soundly and deeply, effectively ending the conversation part of the evening.


	2. The King, Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their reunion is a little more sweaty than Erik had planned for.

Erik wasn't sure how close any students' rooms were situated in relation to Charles' bedroom, but he also didn't really care.

Teenagers probably know more about sex than we do, he thought to himself as he made his way back down to Charles' warmth. Shimmying down the telepath's body and parting Charles shirt buttons as he went, Erik cataloged any and everything that seemed different on Charles' trunk.

Not too much really popped out at him. He snorted at his own mental pun.

'What?" Charles asked innocently.

"Nothing," Erik muttered and resumed kissing and nuzzling. "Just relax," he commanded.

Charles' answering sigh was all the confirmation Erik needed.

With no particular plan in mind, Erik just followed his instincts and the soft sounds emanating from above his head and under his lips. The soft whimpers vibrated down Charles' torso like a carnal telegraph line straight to Erik's cock.

Only with Charles had it ever been as much about giving pleasure as getting it--perhaps even more about giving. Erik cared about Charles in so many more ways than any other living creature, even himself. Especially himself.

He briefly thought about his age-old argument about the pain he causes Charles by being with him weighted against the pain he causes by being away. It was a moot point now what with their separate lives humming along so well. Perhaps this contact could become more regular though . . .

Charles began carding his hands through Erik's hair to quiet his mind and refocus him on the moment. He could hear Erik's thoughts without even trying. But the effort it would take to filter them out was more than Charles wanted to exert in his current state. He resorted to old habits picked up from a time when Erik's mind was much wilder than its current state.

Charles thought longingly about those brief weeks on the road prior to the Cuban Missile Crisis. The constant companionship, the privacy of travel, and the thrill of new discoveries would never again be repeated in either of their lives. To stifle a despondent sigh, Charles mentally folded up those memories and tucked them away to be brought out on a lonely night when he didn't have Erik in the flesh and blood currently attending to his body.

A little yelp escaped his lips when he realized that he had missed Erik undoing his pants and pulling him free of his underwear. The warmth of Erik's tongue brought him back to his senses immediately.

"Mmmm," Erik hummed in appreciation. He nibbled at the end of Charles' foreskin, slipping his tongue in under the edges to taste the pre-ejaculate already leaking. One thing that the two of them had always enjoyed was the disparate state of their penises. Circumcised as an infant as Jewish boys were, Erik had focussed on the piece of skin that he no longer possessed.

Charles had enjoyed Erik's explorations immensely. 

Women had never been so fascinated by something that they didn't attribute to their own pleasure during the sex act. Some had remarked on it before its retraction. Others had pointedly ignored anything about his anatomy.

But Erik.

Erik was enthralled by the idea that Charles had a different type of sensitivity than his own. He asked endless questions of Charles concerning the pressure, speed, temperature, friction, and moisture associated with the foreskin. Charles found it not only good fun but also quite endearing. He almost never got to see Erik expressing such a naked enthusiasm for something that didn't directly impact mutant rights.

After all this time apart, his desire to explore had not diminished one bit.

Charles let out a gasp at the renewed sensations. He was disinclined to engage in masturbation often, a product of his lothario days. And then he was so busy with his school that he was often found slumped over in his chair in the library as often as he actually dragged himself off to bed.

He had worried about his libido and the paralysis. But Erik, god love him, was showing Charles what had been missing from the past few years. A partner. A lover. Erik.

"Erik," Charles whispered. "So good."

By this point, Erik had taken most of Charles into his mouth and hollowed his cheeks in an attempt to separate Charles' skin from his body. Or at least Charles vaguely thought it felt like that.

"Oh! Oh!" Charles tried to keep his exclamations quiet, but it was becoming distressingly difficult. Erik was so talented with his tongue.

Pulling off before the grand finale, Erik's mouth made a small popping sound. He smiled a predatory smile up at Charles. Charles' lopsided smile indicated just how far gone he was already.

"It's been too long, Charles," Erik admonished him. "You're ready to pop, and I've barely begun."

They shared a softer smile, Charles petting Erik's hands where they lay next to Charles' hips on the bed. He noted that Erik's arms were still very wiry and strong. Whether that was a natural state or Erik honed them, Charles wasn't entirely sure. He just knew that if he ever found himself attracted to a stranger these days, he was more likely than not built just like Erik.

Charles had apparently found his 'type.'

Hoisting himself up onto his knees where he had settled between Charles' legs, Erik leaned up to kiss the supine man.

"Let's work for a slow burn, shall we?" he asked.

Charles eyes shone up toward where Erik had pulled back to hang his head over Charles.

"That would be lovely," Charles replied.

Erik ducked back in to start nibbling on Charles' neck, allowing Charles access to him as well. When he was farther down on the bed, it had become almost awkwardly obvious that Charles' limited mobility would change their lovemaking in more than one way. Charles had used to love wrapping his legs around Erik as he fellated the telepath.

Now, with Erik's body hovering overtop, Charles could reach to undress Erik as well. He slid his hands underneath Erik's shirt and rucked it up his back, cataloging any new scars on his way. Erik grunted when Charles hit a particularly new one. Charles frowned, but Erik's slight head shake left him placated for the moment. He continued to pull the fabric up and over Erik's head, casting it aside the moment it was free.

Next, he dove for Erik's belt, snaking it out of the loops quickly. Then the belt joined the shirt on the floor. Sliding a hand into Erik's trousers, Charles made a momentous discovery.

Erik wasn't wearing any underwear.

"Were you planning something for this evening, then?" Charles couldn't help but tease.

"If I had been planning, I would have brought a change of clothes," Erik responded. "So let's get these off to prevent any accidents."

Charles would have sworn he saw a little bit of a blush creep up the side of Erik's neck.

Erik finished his own undressing and returned to pull Charles' pants down and off as well. When he returned to his position, he could now feel the heat radiating off of Charles' body. So strange that the signals to the muscles of Charles' legs were cut off but the blood continued to pump and heat his extremities.

Erik thought about their first night together. How he had given Charles a foot rub. No more itchy feet now, he thought. Above him, Charles laughed. He too was thrust back into that memory of a distant night in a nameless hotel. How the sexual tension between them had sparked and finally caught fire.

How much he had enjoyed the foot rub. He could still 'feel' the massage in his limbs with all of the other phantom sensations.

Erik planted two reverent kisses, one each, on Charles' thighs. Then he rubbed the length from his knees to his hips.

"Where do you start to feel?" he asked.

"Right there," Charles stated and reached down to stop Erik's hands. It was the cusp of Charles' hips, no longer really his thighs. Erik squeezed and memorized this position. He would use this information as best he could.

Leaning up to whisper in Charles' left ear, Erik asked, "Top or bottom?"

Charles whispered back, "You choose."

So Erik chose.

He spit in his hand to add to the drying saliva already deposited on Charles' member. Stroking several times to assure himself of the strength of the erection, Erik straddled Charles and began to impale himself.

Charles' eyes were a big as saucers and his pupils as dark as space. His hands rested on Erik's thighs as the taller man moved down incrementally. Fuck, Erik was tight, Charles thought. Does that mean--?

The moan that Erik let loose rattled the old windows in their frames. Charles watched his red skin disappear behind Erik's testicles, already pulled up tightly to his body. Slow burn indeed, he thought. Erik was fighting to relax just a little more to ease his initial discomfort. But he refused to stop moving down.

Charles moved his right hand to card through Erik's pubic hair, an act that the other man had once said he found very intimate and comforting. When Charles had asked him how that gesture measured up against others in intimacy, Erik had explained that he had never had true intimacy with anyone before Charles.

To stay with someone long enough after the act, to repeat the act so many times with one partner, and then spend time talking, laughing, and petting each other in bed--that was true intimacy. Having a comfort level with nudity and allowing someone to notice things on his body that even he, Erik, had not noticed or known was an act of surrender that Erik had never thought himself capable of. Until Charles.

Once again, Charles had changed the game.

While Charles continued to caress Erik with both eyes and hands, the upright man finally seated himself fully. Pausing to lean forward and search for a kiss, he was rewarded with Charles thrusting up into him using his abdominal muscles.

Erik's eyes were the ones wide open now. He hadn't considered that Charles could use his upper body strength for this. But he was very pleasantly surprised. He continued to kiss his lover and hover on his knees, allowing Charles his freedom of movement.

After a few minutes, Charles was panting more heavily. Erik knew that it was a combination of arousal and effort. He reached down and ran his hands over the rippling muscles on Charles and then took over the thrusting.

He kept the movement slow but long, building their passion slowly. They had all night as far as time went, but he didn't know how long Charles' stamina would hold out. Erik would do most of the work from here to make sure Charles got maximum pleasure out of minimum effort.

"All right?" Erik asked him in a low voice.

"Mmmm, yes," Charles murmured. He was alternately closing, clenching, and opening his eyes. "So overwhelming. So much."

Erik smiled reassuringly.

Charles finally surfaced for a lucid moment, and gestured toward the bedside table. "There's lotion," he exhaled.

Grateful for the lubricating assistance, Erik leaned forward to retrieve it. Slicking Charles up more, Erik was able to pick up his pace a bit and with intention. His hands traversed the length of Charles' torso up and down before settling around his own cock. Adding a little lotion to this combination as well, he began a sedate pace of pulling and sliding.

Charles batted his hands away and took over.

"I want this is my mouth too, you know," he told Erik. "I always loved the way you tasted."

Another moan escaped Erik and he sped up his movements which also served to speed up the movement on his own cock. Erik leaned forward on one arm and planted his hand next to Charles' head. Using his own abdominals now, he curled his hips forward and back quicker and quicker.

His lips latched onto Charles' and pulled hard. This kiss was primal. It spoke of denied desire. It told stories of star-crossed lovers the likes of which Shakespeare had never even dreamt. Teenagers in lust had nothing on two mutants with so much history between them, so much anger and betrayal, love and support. This kiss was a saga in movement.

Charles' climax was fast approaching now. Minutes had been spent divided between feeling Erik clenching him and clenching Erik. He was no longer a young man, but he wasn't in his dotage yet either. He dug his fingernails into Erik's bare arm and managed a back arch, throwing his neck open for Erik.

Erik dove for the delicate flesh and suckled as he continued his hip-rocking. This attention to his sensitive neck was the final straw for Charles. As he shuddered, Erik held him. Luckily, Charles had let go of Erik's cock to dig his fingers into both of Erik's triceps. He would leave marks.

Those marks would match the ones that Erik left on Charles' neck.

After Charles sank back into his bed, sated in a way he had not known since before Cuba, Erik finished himself with four or five more quick strokes. He watched the ropes of semen paint Charles' chest. He had been one to talk to Charles about pent up sexual tension. He was shooting like a younger man himself.

Catching his weight on both arms now, Erik eased himself up and Charles out of his body, sliding easily with the extra contribution. He resumed his position next to Charles, stretched out as before, with his head propped up on his bent arm. They both breathed in silence for a few blissful moments. Sleep tugged at the edges of their consciousnesses.

Charles was the first to break the spell.

"This wasn't why you came, was it?"

"Well, it wasn't and it was."

Charles wrinkled up his brow.

Erik sighed, all attempts at levity and punning put aside again. They had serious things to speak of. And apparently, Charles wasn't willing to wait a while and separate their just completed reunion from the less affirming reasons Erik had approached Charles in the first place.

"You're in danger, Charles," he intoned.


	3. The King, Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik warns Charles.

"In danger?" Charles asked, obviously amused at the idea. It had been years since anything had truly surprised Charles--namely, since a certain German man had left his life. His telepathic power had only grown with time and practice. Erik's helmet was the one artificial blocking mechanism Charles had encountered.

The only natural blocking had occurred sporadically as more mutants with telepathic powers of different degrees came within Charles' range. When Charles encountered these burgeoning minds, he was very careful to keep a respectful distance in terms of his mind. But he also made it his responsibility to make physical contact and let the other telepath know he or she was not losing his or her mind.

As Charles had feared when his powers had first manifested.

The reassurance he had been able to provide to these other mutants was very personally satisfying to Charles. It was one more way that he was trying to accomplish goals similar to Erik's through different, and gentler, means.

In the face of Charles' doubt and mirth, Erik scowled. "This isn't funny, Charles," he growled. "Your naiveté will not protect you forever, you know."

Charles wrapped one arm through Erik's arm and around his neck. His other hand smoothed down Erik's strong arm. Squeezing him reassuringly, Charles said quietly, "I am sorry if I have upset you. I do appreciate your concern."

Erik closed his eyes and willed his temper back under his control. He slung his top arm across Charles' chest to return the embrace. They settled into silence for another moment, each lost in his own thoughts.

Placing a soft kiss on Erik's forehead, Charles entreated, "Tell me what you know."

Sighing, Erik held up a finger for a moment's pause. He then proceeded to prop both Charles and himself up into sitting positions against the headboard the better for conversation.

"We've been monitoring the movements of a new group inside the CIA," Erik began. "They've been working with several of the more shady private sector organizations who are housing cutting-edge genetics research."

"What makes them so shady?" Charles asked, his brow furrowed.

"Using live subjects, even higher order primates, and questionable methodologies. Rushing therapies through the FDA. Missing paper trails behind the therapies about how they were developed," Erik supplied.

"What do you suspect, Erik?"

"You know what I suspect. You know what is most likely going on," Erik insisted.

"How does this put me specifically in danger?" Charles asked, dreading the answer but needing to know.

"Your school's name has been mentioned in several memos within this CIA group," Erik said.

Charles inhaled strongly, demonstrating frustration more than fear. But he was worried by this. He had hoped to keep a low enough profile to escape government monitoring for at least a few more years. Get a few of his older students more established in control of their powers before needing a stronger defense than camouflage.

"What did the communications say about the school?" he asked.

Erik looked closely at his lover. He could tell now that the school was involved, Charles would be more likely to take his warnings seriously. But he still needed to tread lightly.

"Mostly they mentioned things like your energy usage, food budget, and disparate recruiting techniques," Erik said, puzzled by the connections.

Charles held in his chuckle out of respect for Erik's concern. "So, they are concerned that we use a lot of electricity, buy a lot of food, and accept students from around the world regardless of cost?" he summed up.

"Yes," Erik agreed, suspicious about where Charles was headed.

Charles leaned into Erik's body and slapped a hand onto a bony knee cap. "Don't worry, my friend. That's to be expected. We built the extra lab and research space below the mansion, including a new cerebro. That take some extra lighting," Charles explained with a smile. Erik wasn't amused.

"And some of the students have, um, particular dietary restrictions. So we do order a slightly larger volume of both domestic and exotic foods. But that can be explained as much with our international student population as our mutant population. And as for recruiting from all over the planet, well. It seems that mutation is not discriminatory based on imaginary political lines on maps. It's too bad that other characteristics, like kindness, aren't as liberal."

Charles seemed satisfied that these characteristics of the school would be readily explainable and didn't necessarily constitute danger per se. He hazarded a grin at Erik and was rewarded with another scowl.

"What?"

"This is the naiveté I was talking about. Perhaps these things are explainable to someone like an educational review board, but this is a group within the CIA who are specifically working with corporations performing experiments on mutants!" Erik's voice had grown in volume and force as he spoke. He pulled physically away from Charles and stood with his hands on his hips.

The intimidating figure he was trying to cut was undermined slightly by his naked and debauched state.

Charles held out a conciliatory hand. "Please come back to bed," he requested softly.

Erik resisted for a few more seconds while breathing heavily and not meeting Charles' eyes. Finally, he relaxed minutely, and returned to his former position, although he snuggled in tighter to Charles and farther down enough to pillow his head on the shorter man's shoulder.

"I'm sorry again," Charles soothed. He ran a hand through Erik's hair and placed small kisses on the man's temple. "I will talk to my contacts at the agency. I will not let this pass if it means that the children will be threatened."

Erik grumped a response that seemed to indicate he was placated for the moment. Inhaling deeply, he said, "It's so hard. Caring. A big part of me doesn't want to care about you, Charles. I know that's disappointing."

Charles placed a forefinger underneath Erik's chin and tilted his head up so that the telepath could look him straight in the eyes. "You do not disappoint me. But you must learn to accept that caring is an integral part of who you are. You care about many more than just me."

Erik thought about Charles' words for a moment.

Charles continued, "If you didn't care, you would stay here with me and live a life of passionate debauchery. You wouldn't put yourself on the line day after day for other mutants you never met and probably wouldn't even like."

Erik snorted laughter at the truth of that statement. He might care a lot, but he definitely liked less.

"So stop maligning the man I love and what I love about him," Charles finished and gave Erik a playful slap to the cheek.

Erik's hand quickly captured the offending appendage on his face and turned to kiss Charles' palm.

"All right," he agreed grudgingly. "But you have to stop putting the man I love into unnecessary danger _by refusing to see the bad in people_." Erik punctuated his statement with pokes of his long, bony finger to the middle of Charles' chest.

A sly smile spread across Charles' face, and he blinked his eyelashes coquettishly. "I like it when you order me around," he said soberly.

"Well, I'd like it more if you'd listen to me once in a while," Erik returned and lifted himself to claim another kiss. He couldn't resist pressing himself against Charles again, knowing that their time together was always short.

"I'll promise to listen to you when you order me around in bed," Charles teased. He ran his hands through the soft hairs on Erik's chest.

Erik smiled a genuine smile. "It's a start," he countered.


	4. The King, Part IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven is on the case with the CIA agency and the Pentagon to help Charles even if he doesn't know it.

_Why do they wear such short skirts_? Raven wondered as she walked through the bright office space, heels clicking on the tiles. I can barely take a full step in this.

Watching her posture and keeping a pleasant smile on her face, Raven cast her eyes about her, mentally cataloging the space, the people, and the atmosphere. She sensed that today was a relatively relaxed day here at the Pentagon. No major threats detected. No new enemies to track. At least not any they want to publicly acknowledge.

 _If they only knew_ , she thought to herself and could not keep from a quick little smirk. But it disappeared as quickly as it arose. _Charles_ , she thought. _Keep focussed on the objective for Charles_.

Raven was currently posing as the assistant to the head of the CIA's new Domestic Watch group, who was stalking through the halls in front of her. This was how she had had access to the memos mentioning the Xavier School for Gifted Children which she had then passed on to Erik.

The squat man had already made several passes at Raven, which she had laughingly demurred to entertain even as she seethed inside about his audacity and arrogance. Men like him were a big part of what was wrong with the world, in her opinion. He thought he had the right to treat her as if she was a vacuous vessel with no brain, no heart, and no will of her own. She would show him.

Recalling her current location, she resumed her flirty gait and tossed her long hair back over her shoulder as she peered through the glasses perched on her nose that didn't actually exist beyond her body. She kept pace with her boss through the massive halls of the Pentagon on their way to a meeting with the Undersecretary of Something.

Raven thought to herself that she should probably know who they were meeting with since she had actually made the appointment three weeks ago. But her boss seemed to know where he was going. She was just supposed to heel and make him look good by looking good.

Raven stopped her eye-role mid-way through and plastered her best fake smile on her face, clutching her notebook in one hand and her little handbag over the other arm. The man in front of her slowed in front of one of many closed wooden doors. They all looked the same to Raven. She guessed that numbering conference rooms would give the enemy too much information should they ever invade. Suppressing yet another eye-roll, she quickly counted doors from the nearest landmark.

Raven would remember the location of this room. She was good at remembering details.

The door swung open, and she immediately ascertained that she would be the only woman in this meeting. Three uniformed men and one more civilian rose to greet her boss.

"Colonel," he greeted with a curt handshake.

"Mr. Morrison," the Colonel answered. Then he turned to his colleagues and introduced them one-by-one.

The Colonel was flanked by a Major who was his assistant and another Colonel who he had specifically requested attend this meeting. The Major didn't waste any time starting to peruse Raven. She kept still and followed her boss with her eyes as if she didn't notice the inappropriate stare.

"Major Michaels, nice to meet you," Morrison continued. "And Colonel Fulsom. I was hoping you would join us. Colonel Homes has mentioned you in our previous meetings." Colonel Fulsom grunted while he shook Morrison's hand.

Colonel Homes finished the introductions with the civilian. "This is Bolivar Trask. He is one of our top weapons contractors. We thought he might be interested in what you have to say as well, Morrison."

The last two men shook hands, and Morrison waved in Raven's general direction. "My assistant, Tammy," he said. No one shook her hand or looked at her as anything other than a decoration for the stark room.

The men seated themselves at the main table. 'Tammy' took a seat in the corner where a chair already resided undoubtedly for other assistants who had attended meetings such as this. She opened her notebook and readied her pen to take notes from the meeting. It was handy to actually do what she wanted to do as part of her cover. She wanted the information in writing to pass on to Erik.

"Gentlemen," Morrison began. "Thank you for taking this meeting. I'll not waste your time with preamble. I believe there is a dangerous new threat to the security of our great homeland. We will be attacked from within."

He let his words sink in to see the reaction they provoked. Unfortunately for him, this crowd were veterans of wars and similar statements. They were unruffled.

Clearing his throat, Morrison began again. "My group has been commissioned to investigate reports of supra-human incidents and behaviors especially here in the U.S. but as much of the rest of the world as possible. It's an enormous task for such a small group. However, we are making some headway with the help of contractors, such as yourself Mr. Trask."

Trask nodded once in acknowledgement.

Morrison hefted his briefcase onto the table, and popped it open. He extracted sheafs of paper and sorted them out to the other four men. The Pentagon personnel immediately started looking through them. The contractor sat patiently.

Once he had what he wanted, Morrison returned the case to its station on the floor, and folded his hands in front of him.

"What you see here are the reports from several companies performing genetic research. They are looking into our very cells to see how a human being is built. And we are learning some very interesting--some very threatening--things as well." Morrison paused again for affect.

Raven was so very tired of his theatrics. _Cut to the chase, you idiot_ , she thought.

Apparently, the military men were thinking the same thing as they started to shift in their chairs and clear their throats in impatient gestures. Morrison took the hint.

He clarified, finally, "We are seeing a new pattern of mutation emerging in the genetic code of human beings. Something more than birth defects and variation due to gender or racial origins. Some of our top people are beginning to voice concerns that--" Morrison stopped to clear his own throat this time. He was feeling a little intimidated.

Colonel Homes raised a questioning eyebrow to prompt Morrison. "Yes," he said.

"There might be a new species emerging," Morrison concluded with finality. He had dropped his bomb. Now he waited to see what would happen.

Not much did for at least thirty seconds.

Trask, surprisingly, was the one to break the silence next. He hadn't spoken yet.

"Yes, we have independently verified the same occurrences," he said. Morrison's eyebrows shot into his hairline with surprise.

"I wasn't aware anyone else--" he began.

Colonel Homes interrupted him, "No, and you shouldn't have been. It was on a need-to-know basis. But now you can coordinate your efforts with Mr. Trask." The Colonel gestured to the civilian contractor as he continued to peruse the paperwork in front of him.

"This place," he said suddenly.

All eyes went to the piece of paper he was pointing to as if drawn with magnets. Raven was barely able to not make a gasping sound at the grainy photo of her childhood home.

"A school?" Morrison asked, his confusion obvious.

"Why is it in this file, then?" the Colonel continued his examination.

Trask answered. "They have been under surveillance for some time. We will take care of that situation, Colonel." His assurance in a room filled with high-ranking military men was formidable and impressive, even to Raven.

The Colonel was satisfied. He collated the paperwork and sent it down the table and into Trask's waiting hands. Trask efficiently placed the paperwork into his own briefcase at his feet.

Morrison looked like he had just been pushed down by a bully on the playground. "But?" he sputtered.

Homes turned his head back to look at Morrison directly again. "From now on, you will work exclusively with Mr. Trask and his organization, is that clear, Mr. Morrison?" he ordered.

Morrison swallowed. "Yes, sir."

Homes looked at his fellow officers who both nodded at him. "Thank you, gentlemen," he dismissed them all, rising up to leave.

Morrison, Raven, and Trask all stayed seated until the door closed. Morrison was in shock at what just happened. Raven took her cues from him. Trask was in complete control of Morrison.

Trask looked at him through lowered eyelashes. "Who else has been privy to this information, Mr. Morrison," he asked as his eyes flitted to Raven sitting primly and quietly in the background.

Morrison tried very hard not to flinch. "Just myself, my team of six, and some key players at the contracting facilities. However, we took the precaution of keeping them working on disconnected parts of the research so that no one had the whole picture."

Trask actually smiled. "Good. That's good," he said condescendingly. His smile sent a shiver down Raven's spine.

Morrison shifted in his seat and started to sweat profusely.

Trask stood abruptly and fastened the buttons on his jacket. "Your team now works for me. I want to meet with each of them individually, starting with her"--he pointed at Raven who smiled tightly to appear as harmless as possible--"as soon as possible." With that, he grabbed his suitcase and exited the room.

Morrison exhaled and swung around to look Raven in the eyes. She read the threat there. She was forbidden to divulge his humiliation to anyone. Or else. She lowered her eyes first and then her chin to stare at the notebook in her lap on which she had dutifully been taking notes.

Morrison stumbled up from the table and snatched the notebook from her hands. He stowed in his own briefcase and exited behind Trask, not looking back to see if she was following him.

Raven took a moment to gloat. No matter how big and bad you think you are, there's always someone bigger and badder, she thought.

Then she followed him out the door and down the corridor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should mention that I do not read the comic books. All of my X-men knowledge comes from the movies, fanfiction, and my husband who did read the comics years ago. Therefore, I am introducing Trask here as my villain whether he fits into this timeline or not in terms of canon.
> 
> It seems to me that the sort of genetic research Trask was supposedly doing in DOFP wasn't possible at that time anyway, so I'm free to rewrite that stuff too. ;)


	5. The King, Part IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik and Charles need to talk about the past five years.

"Why did you stay away so long?" Charles asked Erik the next morning, before the sun had actually made an appearance. They had dozed off and on all night, enjoying the quiet and each other.

Erik looked at him quizzically. 

"I'm surprised you have to ask," he replied.

When Charles didn't seem to understand his enigmatic response, Erik continued.

"The last time we spoke, here in your kitchen and in the study, you were not happy with me. My methods. My goals. I thought you'd be--I mean, that you'd prefer." Erik ended his non-sentence with a vague motion that seemed to sever imaginary ties between them.

"You thought wrong," Charles said without any malice. His smile faltered and he sighed. "I was in a dark place then. I admit it. I wasn't at my best. But I wish I had been able to tell you how much it meant to me to be with you. Just to look into your eyes and hear your voice. I wanted you _here_ ," Charles' voice broke on the last word. He knew that Erik had never been comfortable in Charles' mansion. "Or," he amended, "At least with me somehow."

Erik reached under the covers for Charles' hand as they lay facing each other on separate pillows. He squeezed it with affection and tried to think of something that would justify five years' absence more than just a false idea of Charles' wishes. Erik knew Charles well enough to realize that had Erik made more gestures Charles would have accepted them. He was a fountain of forgiveness and understanding.

It was one of things about Charles that made him so lovable. It was also one of the things that truly frustrated Erik about him. Even as he benefited from the characteristic himself.

"I'm sorry," Erik whispered, afraid the words would break one of them. Or both.

Charles offered a watery-eyed smile. Erik kissed his forehead and each eye to try to stem the tide of emotion.

Charles placed his other hand on Erik's chest and pushed gently. Erik took the hint and leaned back to meet Charles' eyes once again.

"When was the last time you apologized for anything you have done?" Charles asked him, his eyes sparkling from more than just the extra moisture.

Erik pulled a face. "Apologies for actions are different from apologies for thoughts. I still think everything I have done was right, given the circumstances and information available at the time. Sometimes things go wrong in execution--"

Charles cut him off with a snort.

"Yes, you are always conveniently able to rationalize your failures. I have followed you through the years. I can read an article in the newspaper and know when it is you or your group who is behind it," Charles tells him as he toys with a piece of Erik's hair that has flopped over his forehead.

"Indeed? Enlighten me, then," Erik challenged. He settled onto his balled fist, propping his head up.

Charles could feel the strange mix of aggression and amusement that was Erik Lehnsherr. He closed his eyes and cast about for a specific memory.

"Oh, yes," he said, "I remember four months ago. A report out of Vietnam. American soldiers were swearing they had seen strange things in the jungle. Strange activity from the enemy. And then several years ago, a report of local election results in Maryland being called into question. A vast number which was also strange."

Charles paused to look for any reaction from Erik. His lover remained impassive, so Charles continued.

"Some important, and newly discovered, scientific artifacts from Asia were 'lost' on their way to the U.K. for study. Something about radioactive damage from the Hiroshima bombings in 1944." Charles lifted a questioning eyebrow after that one.

Erik's mouth twitched at the corners. He gave up the fight, rolled his eyes, and flopped back onto his pillow.

Charles laughed out loud and leaned over to kiss Erik on the cheek. He snuggled up against the lean, hard muscles of the German, feeling an arm snake around his back and rest on his hip.

"So was I wrong?" he asked quietly in Erik's ear, runing his nose along the shell.

Erik snorted. "No, you weren't. Of course."

Erik trusted Charles that if he said he didn't use his telepathy, he didn't. Charles was nothing if not a man of his word. His respectability dripped off of him. No one who had ever met Charles, even the women he used to pick up in bars, would argue that fact.

But it didn't stop him from being exasperated at Charles' smug attitude. Even if it was all in teasing fun.

The two if them lapsed into a comfortable and sleepy silence for a few moments.

"What time is it?" Erik finally asked.

"Mmm," Charles mumbled, half asleep again. "Clock over there." He gestured toward his bureau.

Erik squinted, but couldn't see the clock face in the dark. Rippling out from his body, his magetic power swooped toward the little clock, picking it up effortlessly and delivering it directly into Erik's waiting hand.

"Nice," said Charles.

Erik just grunted. "Five-thirty," he informed his armful of man.

"Still time to sleep," Charles decided.

Erik looked down at the warm body next to him.

"Or not," he said in a low, husky voice.

Charles smiled against Erik's shoulder skin. _Yes_ , he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little bit shorter chapter than usual, but I felt that these two needed to clear up why they had left on such shattered terms at the end of Seducing the King but then jumped into bed in this story.
> 
> You know, beside the obvious. ;)


	6. The King, Part IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles begins to investigate Erik's claims.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to a lovely young lady I met through a Twitter chat. Her enthusiasm to read _Seducing the King_ rekindled my excitement to keep moving this story forward. So I wrote this today. Enjoy!

A week after Erik had shown up at the mansion in the middle of the night with tidings of doom and undiminished ardor for Charles, the telepath started his own discreet investigation.  
Using the materials Erik had provided for him, he made inquiries with certain business partners of his late father. He let them think that he was interested in putting his money where his academic interests lay in genetic research. They responded with alacrity.

Another week later saw Charles attending a meeting with investor relations at Trask Industries. Charles looked through the glossy brochures as the people in front of him rattled off facts and figures about the glorious and lucrative industry of genetic research. Freezing them for a few moments, he was able to, at his leisure, lightly skim the minds of not only the people in the room but everyone in the building.

Well, almost everyone.

Charles saw a great many honest, hardworking people doing their jobs, caring about their livelihoods, and hoping for bigger and better things down the line. Some of the minds were quite extraordinary. Scientists, business people, secretaries--no social strata was without its great minds. But as Charles was perusing one person's particularly interesting theories about DNA, he suddenly lost that person's mind, as if she had never existed at all.

Which was quite peculiar in itself. But coupled with the warnings that Erik had again stressed before his reluctant departure, and Charles' brow started to furrow. He drew back to someone outside of the door into which his scientist had disappeared. Through his eyes, Charles could see Level M on the outside of the door.

Bringing his attention back to the people in the room, Charles folded the brochure, caught the last few words of their spiel, and smiled.

"Spendid," he commented. "May I have a tour of your beautiful facility?"

"Of course!" one of the reps simpered. _Anything for a paying customer_ , his smile said.

For the next forty-five minutes, Charles quizzed every single white lab-coated person he spied on his tour. The investor relations people did their best to appear to be in charge of his route, but the truth was that Charles was dictating his own access. He was zeroing in on that mysterious door.

Finally, he rounded a corner and spied both the door and the woman whose mind he had followed earlier. She was emerging from said door, and he smoothly blocked her path with his chair and a dazzling smile.

"Good afternoon," he began, spying her name tag. "Dr. Rosen. My name is Charles Xavier." He held out his hand.

Looking at the two people hovering behind Charles who both had official Trask Industries badges to counter his simple VISITOR one, she visibly relaxed. Reaching out to return his handshake and smile, she responded, "How do you do?"

"Much better now, I assure you," Charles flirted. "I've been touring your fantastic new facility, and I am quite impressed. I studied genetics at Oxford, but I always forget the power of the private sector when it comes to furnishing labs with the best equipment.

Dr. Rosen and Charles shared a laugh.

"I know what you mean," she agreed. "I came from Columbia. Part of me feels like a traitor to academia, but the part of me that likes to shop and travel keeps the other on a tight leash." She ended her statement with a wink.

Charles couldn't help chuckling again. He liked this woman.

"What is your specialty, Doctor?" he inquired, settling in for a--hopefully--lengthy interview.

"Cytogenetics," she supplied. _Interesting_ , thought Charles. "I've been able to really indulge in some of my wildest clinic fantasies here at Trask. Thanks to investors such as yourself."

Charles knew some of that speech was the party line she was expected to toe with potential investors. He gave her credit. The smooth delivery sat better on her than on most. Even the two tour guides were clumsy in comparison.

"Clinical fantasies, eh? And what else would you like to accomplish with your research?" Charles probed verbally while he sunk ever-so-gently into her mind.

A superior mind. It reminded Charles very much of Erik's mind. Disciplined in both its structure and its control. He had to admit that he was drawn to this woman because she reminded him of his dear friend.

Dr. Rosen thought for a moment. "I'd really like to stay in the area of disease research. To find therapies and cures," she replied.

Charles met her gaze with a soft smile. "Is that what you do with, uh," he gestured weakly at the door through which she had just emerged, "Level M?" He made his inquiry seem as innocuous as possible.

She turned to look back at the door as she had forgotten she had come through it just minutes before. "Oh, uh, no. Level M isn't really my project. I was just assisting. . . " she trailed off. Her eyes met with Charles' two escorts, and he saw a great deal of trepidation there.

But after a beat, she recovered.

"Well, I must be on my way, Mr. Xavier. It was a pleasure chatting with you," she said and offered her hand again.

Charles shook her one in both of his. "The pleasure was all mine, surely," he replied.

Dr. Rosen turned on a well-appointed heel and walked briskly away from him. But Charles followed her for quite a while as she made her way back to her own laboratory and office. He managed to maintain a decent conversation with his investment minders while sifting through her vaults of cognitive information.

There was a little fear there. A little apprehension. Not about Charles, but about her role in Level M, whatever the project might be. She did well hiding its true purpose. Or perhaps she didn't actually know the extent of it all. As she said, she was only assisting.

Charles did catch glimpses from her--images of labs even larger than the ones he had been freely shown. More security checkpoints. More employees engaged in genetic research. Dr. Rosen didn't even know the names of a majority of the people involved. Whether that was indicative of her relatively recent arrival or not, Charles wasn't entirely sure.

Her own research was what burned most brightly in her consciousness. And Charles had to stop himself from opening up a non-verbal dialog with her about some of the more interesting portions. Perhaps he could speak to her again another time, he promised himself.

Back in the original meeting space with his paperwork and brochures, Charles was informed that Mr. Trask himself would be joining them to greet Mr. Xavier and answer any questions he had. Charles waited patiently, sifting through additional minds at the same time.

Mr. Trask appeared all smiles and ingratiating behavior. A consummate business man used to winning the hard sell, Charles could tell immediately. He could also tell that Trask felt superior to Charles in his wheelchair.

"Mr. Xavier, it is always a great pleasure to meet with interested investors. I hope that you have had a positive experience here with us today?" Trask greeted him and then turned a withering look on his own people. Intimidation was a tool he obviously employed frequently.

Charles jumped in save the two lackeys. "Excellent. Just an excellent day. I am so very impressed with everything you are doing here, Mr. Trask," he gushed with as much authenticity as he could muster.

Trask took a seat next to Charles and leaned in toward him. "Have you always been in a wheelchair?" Trask's hubris was evident in his attitude of entitlement. He could ask anyone anything in his own building.

Charles rolled with it. "No, car accident, five years ago. Severed my spinal cord unfortunately," he lied easily.

Trask nodded as if he had suspected as much. "That's the sort of injury I hope to remedy with some of our more advanced gene therapies. Regrow cells. That sort of thing," he rattled off.

"Indeed?" Charles asked, willing to play dumb if that was what Trask wanted. Underestimating Charles Xavier was always to someone else's disadvantage.

"Oh, yes. We have a few minor government contracts for researching the possibilities of genetic therapies for all sorts of veteran injury," Trask boasted.

Charles smiled benignly.

"Well, I think that I will have to plead fatigue for today and bid you and your wonderful company farewell, Mr. Trask. Thank you for the hospitality. I will be in touch about my investment decisions," Charles brought the interview to a close.

Trask popped up out of his chair, and gruffly shook Charles' hand.

"Very good. I'll have my people show you out. Good day," he returned. Then Trask sailed out of the door without a glance behind.

 _Erik was right_ , Charles thought as he wheeled himself through the front doors to his waiting car. _This man is the very definition of slimy. And Level M warrants much more investigation_.

Trask, as it turned out, was already deep into his investigation of Charles and his school.


	7. Rules of Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven is interrogated by Mr. Trask.

**Chess Rules of Play**

_Pieces cannot move through other pieces_.

* * *

 

Raven sat in the empty room. Her chair was the only piece of furniture. The fluorescent lights buzzed a contented hum. She continued to chew and pop her gum to convey her nonchalant attitude about being essentially placed into an interrogation room. If Trask thought that was going to intimidate her, he was very wrong.

So she kept up her façade of the vapid young woman who didn't really care about more than her nails and her hair. It was a very convenient cover and had saved her countless times. Men were so naive. She played them like a virtuoso no matter where she went.

The door squeaked open to admit a man in a business suit. But the business suit didn't suit him. He looked uncomfortable and out-of-place in it. He'd have looked more at home in coveralls or a dirty white t-shirt. But apparently, Trask required even his muscle to have some sort of decorum.

He carried another chair and a small table with him. He sat the table down first, directly in front of Raven and over her legs. Then he placed the second chair facing her. He looked at her once, and she smiled a million watt smile at him. He looked confused for a few seconds before retreating back to the doorway.

"That will be all, Jones," Trask's voice floated from behind Raven. She turned to see him entering with a file folder in his hands. Nice, she thought, he does his own interrogations, I mean, 'interviews'. She smiled at her own internal correction.

"Ms. Tammilyn Foster," he greeted her.

"Yes, sir," she answered in a sunny voice. He stopped next to her to look down into her upturned face, taking in her smile, her low-cut blouse, and her short skirt. Seeming displeased by all of it, he returned his gaze to the file.

"Yes," he parroted back. "I see here you have no college degree." He threw the file onto the table and took the seat with an arrogance Raven could practically smell.

"No, sir, but I have a certificate from the National School of Typing and Dictation. I've not needed more since working for Mr. Morrison," she reported, batting her eyelashes.

Trask sighed. "You can stop flirting with me, Ms. Foster," he informed her.

"Excuse me, Mr. Trask, but I was just being friendly. Mr. Morrison always seems to enjoy my friendliness."

"I imagine," he returned.

Tammy scoffed. "Not like that. We have a professional relationship," she threw back at him, pouting a little and crossing her arms defensively.

Trask just smiled.

"Good," he said absently. "You have worked for him for three years now?"

"Yes, thereabouts."

"And you would say that he's a good boss?"

"He's as good as any other. Are you trying to get me fired?" Tammy inquired.

Trask held up his hands in a placating manner. "Oh, no, no. I'm simply interested in your level of loyalty to Mr. Morrison. If, for instance, you found out that he was involved in anything that would compromise his ability to carry out his duties as a member of our Central Intelligence Agency. That's all."

"I see," she returned. "Do you suspect Mr. Morrison of something, sir?" Raven let a little bit of fear creep into her eyes.

Trask decided to take a different tack now. He put on what he thought of as his most charming smile. Raven resisted the urge to smirk at his efforts. He looked like a sleazy pimp under the best of conditions. His attempt to look understanding and solicitous of her just amped him up to kingpin pimp.

Instead, she smiled back, playing into his attempt to 'sweet talk' her into betraying Morrison or whatever he planned to do.

"Ms. Foster. As a contractor, part of my job is to ensure that we have no leaks of information through my company or through any agency with which we work. Weapons contracting and the type of genetic research we are engaging in are the tip top of top secret," he oozed. When he smiled at her again, she picked up on what was supposed to be a little joke and giggled behind a lifted hand for maximum effect.

"That's why I invited you here for our little interview. I want to know more about you and what you do for Mr. Morrison. To ensure that you follow appropriate safety protocols and don't discuss work matters with friends or family," he continued.

Tammy giggled again. "My family would have no idea what to make of any of the things that Mr. Morrison has me type up, Mr. Trask. It'd all be gibberish to them. Most of the time I don't even really listen when he talks. I just hear the words and write them down in the correct order. You know what I mean?" she asked with a wink to seal the deal.

Trask smiled once more. "Yes, I think that I do," he assured her. "Do you know what tetrahydrocelinium X is, Ms. Foster?"

Tammy shook her head slowly. "No, I don't think I do. Is it something I should know?" Raven really poured on the nervousness now. A jittery female was guaranteed to put a man off balance.

"No, I don't expect you to know it. But it's one of the things that might have come up when Mr. Morrison was dictating," he answered.

"Well, if it did, it was in one ear and out the other, Mr. Trask," she said, giggling again.  
"Yes."

Trask slid a business card across the table at this point. "Ms. Foster, if you ever suspect that Mr. Morrison is dealing with anything that could be considered un-American, would you please contact my security team? Their number is on that card." He nodded at the card, and Tammy reached to pick it up with her manicured fingers.

"Certainly, Mr. Trask. But, really, sir, I think Mr. Morrison is a good man. He is working to keep us all safe, isn't he?" she asked him as she toyed with the card.

Trask kept his eyes on hers and not on her hands. She folded them demurely in front of her.

"We certainly think so, Ms. Foster," he assured her.

He spent another minute looking through her file before shutting it again. "Well, it was a pleasure to meet you once more. And under less pressing circumstances," he said and leaned a little farther across the table toward her. Raven kept her position.

Then he stood abruptly as if he had thought of something else he needed to do right away.

As he walked briskly away from her, Raven swiveled her head to watch him. He spared her no second glance. All he threw back was a 'Good day!' and then Jones was escorting her out the door of the nondescript room and toward the front doors of the building. She smiled benignly at him as well and kept up the charade until she was seated safely on the bus and blocks from Trask's building.

Then she let herself relax.


	8. Rules of Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven wants to play a little game herself.

**Rules of Play**

_No two pieces can occupy the same space_.

* * *

 

Raven flounced in the door to the hotel room and landed in a chair in a billow of long coat over mini-skirt. Erik didn't look up from where he was writing at the small desk.

"Well?" she asked impatiently.

Erik didn't answer. He continued to write. Raven rolled her eyes. She stood and peeled off the coat and shimmered into her blue self.

"I'm going to take a shower," she announced to the room in general. Still no response from Erik. But she decided she didn't care right now. She was tired from her undercover work all day. It was all well and good for him to sit and plan all day. But she had to do the legwork. And it was exhausting work. In heels.

She stood under the hot water a lot longer than necessary. But this was a moment for herself. Taking time to think of no one but herself. She used to think only of herself all the time. But Erik had changed that. And she was glad. She was.

But sometimes one had to take a moment to reflect and reconnect with one's own self. She flexed herself into several different shapes feeling the water changing course down her skin as it moved. Her mind morphed into the patterns of the people she reflected on the outside.

Not knowing any other way of being, she didn't ponder the strangeness of rerouting her own neural pathways. What she did ponder was the limiting nature of the human brain. What was it like to only ever feel the world one way? To not fill out different shapes and speak with different voices?

Raven chuckled to herself under the spray of water. Such small beings. And they didn't even realize. She knew that Erik didn't even realize how limited his mutation left him. He was greater than a human, of course. But his magnetic power was so . . . one dimensional. It reminded her of Saturday morning serials where a character was placed into more and more ludicrous situations just to display a certain talent or characteristic over and over.

Erik was powerful. She knew that. And she respected it. Respected him. He was, after all, the man who had shown her the path for her life. He started her; she was walking it. He didn't own her. And she had long since figured she had paid back any debt that she had owed him.

After reaching down to turn off the water, Raven slicked the remaining water droplets out of her orange locks. She changed forms a few more times and absorbed the remaining moisture from her flesh. Completely dry, she stepped from the tub and gathered the hotel robe.

Another indulgence. She liked the feel of terry on her native skin. And Erik seemed to always choose a hotel that provided them. Perhaps he was more observant than she gave him credit for.

Emerging from the bathroom in a cloud of humid air, she saw that Erik was no longer sitting at the desk. He was stretched out on the bed, arms behind his head, smirking at her.

Placing a sassy hand on her hips, she canted them to the right. "What are you smiling about?" she asked him.

Drawing in a deep breath, Erik responded, "Charles called."

Losing all of her previous cool detachment, she leapt onto the bed and sat down on her knees, bouncing a little in her excitement. Erik continued to smile at her, with just a touch more affection than he usually did.

"What did he say?" she asked.

"He visited Trask Industries. He agrees that there's something going on," Erik informed her.

Raven rolled her eyes again. "Well, it's good to know that the great telepath agrees with us finally," she said.

Erik looked at her sideways, not moving his head, a question on his brow. Raven felt herself flush and looked down at her hands wringing in her lap. She consciously stopped fidgeting, steeled herself once again as a soldier, and looked Erik in the eye boldly.

"Charles always used to dismiss me out-of-hand a lot. You know that. It's the reaction I expected from him," she admitted. "But I'm glad that he's onboard now."

Erik dismissed the gaff with a blink of his eyelids. He returned to his earlier good mood, running over some of the less 'official business' things Charles had murmured into his ear down the telephone wires that connected them across hundreds of miles of distance.

"Stop that," Raven ordered with a smack to his leg. She got back up off of the bed and returned her robe to the bathroom.

"What?" Erik inquired mildly.

Raven's voice echoed, "You're mooning, over Charles," she informed him. "It's sickeningly sweet. And not like you, Erik."

Truth be told, Raven was glad that the two of them had made up several weeks ago. Erik had been much easier to work with ever since. After five years of silence, it was nice to have some things slide back into place where they should have been before.

But it also made her feel quite lonely. She didn't have Charles anymore--her own choice--but she didn't have anyone else who filled that gap either. She and Erik had toyed at a more-than-platonic relationship, but it had fizzled quickly. She had been attracted to his power and his politics at first, but as she spent more and more time with him, the crush had worn off. They had both been more than a little relieved.

Raven liked knowing that Erik had a soft side more than actually seeing it. She was happy to leave that to Charles. He brother had seen something more within Erik than any of the rest of them had from the first. She secretly thought that he would have even without his telepathy.

Some days the loneliness wore more than others. Today was one of the more days. Raven looked at herself in the bathroom mirror and flexed her voluntary muscles. Charles as he had looked the last time she laid eyes on him, on the Cuban beach, appeared in the glass. A not-so-Charles sly smile crept over the features. Where did these impulses come from, she wondered.

Walking slowly back out to the bedroom, Raven waited for Erik's reaction. He barely glanced at her but did a double-take.

"What are you doing?" he growled. _Interesting reaction_ , she thought.

"I've missed you Erik. My soul mate. My other half," Raven pronounced in Charles refined accent.

"What game are you playing, Raven?" he asked, eyes slit in fury.

Raven walked over to the side of the bed she had just vacated and sat with one knee bent on the bedspread. Her right hand reached across to plant between Erik's legs and support her weight. Her left hand started to trail across the bedspread and toward Erik's hip.

"No game, darling, just wanted to spend some time with you," she assured him.

When Erik just scowled at her, Raven decided to push him a little farther to see his reaction.

'Charles' kept up his posture, looking Erik up and down lasciviously.

"I'm so glad you still wear those turtlenecks and tight pants, Erik darling," she said. "They do things to me that are illegal in every state of the Union."

Erik looked at her incredulously. Ok, so maybe she wasn't the best at seduction. But perhaps actions would speak louder.

Crawling properly up onto the bed, Raven surprised Erik by straddling his hips. Then she proceeded to 'take off' Charles' jacket and unbutton his Oxford. These were all illusions created by her own skin, but the illusion held.

Erik watched her thick fingers pull at the little white buttons. She could see him swallow hard. _He must have really enjoyed seeing Charles again after so long_ , she mused. He wouldn't normally allow her to get so far into taunting him about anything.

Stopping at the second-to-last button, she leaned in and attempted to brush her Charles lips to Erik's.

Erik jerked away from her as if he had been electrocuted. Tossing her onto the bed, he stood up and stalked to where he had thrown his coat over the back of the desk chair. Throwing it on, he looked back at her.

"Never take that form in my presence again," he commanded.

Raven shimmered into her own skin once more. She rolled over onto her back and assumed the same position Erik had just left with her hands behind her head.

"Touchy, are we?" she asked him, amused at the violence of his reaction and the contradicting impulses she had seen.

Erik refused to interact with her one moment more. He exited the hotel room with a resounding slam of the door.

 _Well, at least I get the bed to myself_ , Raven thought. She snuggled up into the pillow.

Sometime later she was still trying to fall asleep, her somewhat shrunken conscience prodding at her that she had provoked Erik for no other reason than that she was bored. So what, she chastised herself. He has done more for less reason.

The thought that returned was startling.

 _Do you really want to be only a_ little _better than Erik Lehnsherr_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapter updates! Wow. Enjoy, my lovlies. And please leave a little comment if you are enjoying the adventures.


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